


Aftermatter

by Owlship



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloodlust, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, Kinktober 2016, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: Furiosa can't tell whether the metallic taste in her mouth is adrenaline or if it's someone's blood.





	Aftermatter

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober '16, originally posted [on tumblr](http://v8roadworrier.tumblr.com/post/151952807071/todays-kinktober-is-bloodgore-there-isnt)!

Furiosa can't tell whether the metallic taste in her mouth is adrenaline or if it's someone's blood. Most of the blood covering her isn't hers, but there's still a graze across the top of her right arm that stings when she moves her arm the wrong way, a crust of it drying tacky against the back of her head. She'd been meaning to cut her hair.

Max has just finished hacking off the head of the last of this little band of thugs, rusty stole machete in hand, and is as bloodied as she is. Bright arterial splatter seeps into the fabric of his shirt and his bottom lip is split, a trickle of red dripping down to the scruff over his chin.

She waits for him to sweep his eyes around and see that their enemies are dead, and then Furiosa meets his gaze. His eyes take a moment to focus, to recognize her as not being a threat.

She can feel the energy of the fight singing through her, her body keyed up and ready to take on another host of attackers. He looks the same.

They collide in the middle, hands harsh and kiss biting and coppery, uncaring about the bodies a few paces away. Max forgets to drop his machete until she stops the blade of it with her metal hand as he reaches for her, and then he tosses it aside to land with a clatter on the cement floor.

Furiosa can feel him hard against her, can feel herself practically dripping for him. There's blood and worse on the both of them and it does nothing to diminish how much she wants to feel him against her, inside her. But the floors are filthy and even revved up like this she can tell that the walls are going to fall in if there's weight put on them, and probably take out the ceiling as well.

He paws at her crotch, graceless, and she tugs him down to kneel. His knee won't be thanking him later but she's flying high on adrenaline and blood-lust and thinks he is too, doubts the pain will even register until they're away and driving anyway. A fight like that and no injuries worth patching up; she feels like she's made of steel, of burning guzz, invincible.

"Need you in me," she says while he bites and sucks his way down her neck. He rumbles wordlessly against her and he grabs a handful of her ass, squeezing and drawing her in close.

She works her hand between them to unbuckle the belt holding her leathers up and while she's pushing them down Max gets the hint to undo his own fly. She'd like to look him in the eye for this, kiss him and taste his blood welling out of his split lip, but she doesn't much like the idea of either of them rolling around the filthy floor. Instead she twists around and doesn't have much chance to brace her hands on the ground before he's slotting himself up behind her, arms wrapping around her middle and cock a hot brand against her thigh.

She lets out a low impatient noise at the feel of him, widens the spread of her legs as much as she can with her trousers hobbling her at the knees.

He pushes inside of her sudden and quick, claws his fingers into the wings of her hips to hold her in place while he thrusts without waiting for her to adjust, punishing.

Furiosa wails, pushes back as much as she can into each thrust. She needs it faster, harder, needs to chase the sparks in her blood until all she can think is about him and not the bodies she killed lying not three meters away.

He's growling, feral and savage, and with a shiver she remembers him in that first fight, when he was turning all his wild energy _against_ her instead of with her.

Max snaps his hips against her with single-minded determination, fills her cunt and drives himself in deep with each stroke. It's all she can do to brace herself against the force of it, can't imagine sneaking her hand away to touch herself, and she knows that he hasn't the slightest thought in his head of it either.

Her clit aches, swollen and neglected, but her cunt throbs in time with every thrust, his balls hitting heavy against her lips when he bottoms out. Furiosa squeezes herself around his cock and is startled when he changes his grip, the bulk of his body suddenly laying on top of hers until she's pressed nearly flat to the filthy ground despite her intentions, his hands wrapping under her chest to grab her shoulders.

His movements are shorter like this, slower, but he pounds into her with all his weight behind him and it takes her breath away, reduces her to rough gasping sobs.

Max's head is right up behind hers now and he bites against the curve of her neck, teeth blunt against her skin, nails digging into her shoulders as he pulls her back onto him.

She's not sure what pushes her over the edge. A hard thrust at just the right angle, the way he growls her name against his ear and it half sounds like a threat, the fact that she can feel the blood from his split lip dripping down onto her cheek as she moans against the cold cement floor. It's less pleasure and more physical release, a wave rocking through her that pushes a hoarse shout out of her throat.

He grunts like rocks breaking apart and grinds himself into her as he follows her over, hands on her shoulders making sure she's pulled up tight to him while he finishes.

When she can feel that his cock is done spilling Max curls himself up around her, drops his weight to his elbows and his head to her back, forehead pressed against her shirt and lungs gasping.

Furiosa adjusts her arms against the bite of rough concrete on her skin, can't help the shiver that runs through her when she moves her hips and can feel him still inside of her, can feel the soreness that has nothing to do with the battle.

Her heart's still racing but it's slowing, now. Downshifting now that the fighting and the fucking are done. Above her Max's breath gets shaky, and his forehead rolls in place back-and-forth across her spine.

She opens her eyes and across the floor sees part of a body, a smear of red pooling out under it. It was this tribe's territory that they found themselves in, and there's no knowing if there are more of them, if they have anyone to wonder where their friends have gone. Staying much longer now that they have what they came for is foolish anyway. Max kisses the back of her head, just next to the tender spot missing a clump of hair.

"Should head out," she says, surprised her voice doesn't sound as wrecked as she feels.

"Mhm," he hums, a deep resonate sound, and after another moment gracelessly pulls himself away from her.

She hisses at the way her grazed arm stings as she pushes herself back up, but even with the buzz nearly gone from under her skin it doesn't seem anything worth doing more than throwing a rag around. The blood's already clotting up, turning thick and black on her skin; she's more concerned with cleaning it off their gear.


End file.
